


alula haunting

by faorism



Series: hazy days, longer afternoons [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Family Drama, Ghosts, Kid Fic, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faorism/pseuds/faorism
Summary: Through a haze of crisp leaves and chill-bleached grass, Sakura finds her youngest playing with a familiar crow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this verse was started way before kishi plopped down his ocs specifically to make naruto and sasuke out to be the worst dads ever, so none of those kids exist here.

Sakura never hovered over her children, not even when they were toddlers barely walking.

Call it tough parenting, call it a brute extension of her headstrong attitude, call it a side effect of knowing how to garrote a guy since the tender age of ten: she trusts her children to not run the house ragged after ten minutes of unsupervised care. Sometimes she will catch a new notch in a table, or dents in the floor after a wrestling match gone awry, or a bruised wall where Ichiru misjudged yet another jump. But it was Sasuke's tidiness that all three kids inherited—not Sakura's forgetful clutter nor Naruto's particular brand of domestic disaster—and they always cleaned up after their antics. For such a blessing, Sakura leaves offerings to every nearby shrine whenever she can. (As Heiwa grows into the role of babysitter to his sisters, he learns to do the same.)

Sakura trusts her children as a three-person unit.

But her two eldest are away on a school trip, and Sakura hasn't heard a peep from Sango in the two hours Sakura's been reading her apprentices' research notes. A quiet Haruno Sango on her own is a Haruno Sango looking for trouble.  

Tucking away her papers, Sakura heads straight to the backyard.

The dry air shines golden with the approaching sunset, coming earlier every day as autumn nips the promise of a bitter frost. Finding Sango is quick work in the haze of crisp leaves and chill-bleached grass: the pink stream of hair signaling her youngest flickers vivid against the tableau of siennas. There's nothing too amiss with the scene, although Sango changed out of the simple white dress she wore at lunch. She has paired her rain boots with a patchwork of her siblings' fitness gear, a set of Naruto's robes, and the obi she received for last year's shichi go san kimono. Between her long hair and the outfit, a rainbow trails after Sango as she jumps up and down along the tree border at their property line.

It would be disappointing if Sango damages the obi, patterned with a fan tastefully reminiscent of the Uchiha crest without replicating it. Sakura wanted to get at least one more use out of that kimono set before the girl outgrew it, like she does all her clothes every time Sakura blinks. Unlike Naruto, whose entire height Sakura swears was gained in three growth spurts (one at five, one at fifteen, and the last at twenty-one), Sango gains inches like—

Sango crouches down, and a small black _something_ streaks past her.

Every hair on Sakura's arms stands on end.

From across the yard Sakura can hear Sango's screeching laughter as she swats the air. Her palm connects with a wing, but her target recovers easily and pitches upward to recoup its balance.

It reaches the height of the trees in an instant. Sango cries seeing it climb out of reach. She follows its shadow in circles, stomping her feet and waving her fist at it, until it hovers down to the ground in front of her. Sakura cannot make out what it's doing from the distance, but Sango immediately bends down in response. Her hand stretches out to pet the midnight black crow at her feet. When she doesn't flinch away in pain, Sakura guesses it accepted her touch.

Sakura doesn't move to interrupt them. She wants to, thinks she must, urges her legs to push forward.

Yet she hesitates. In the air she reads no killing intent nor the stink of malevolent chakra. Even without any bloodline boosts, Sakura's skill in perception is a sharp tool that she can stake her and her family's safety in. A chill runs down Sakura's spine watching them, but her instinct reads nothing threatening or hidden about the crow.

It is just a bird.

It is _just_ a bird.

It isn't…

The crow hops onto Sango's shoulders and gently stretches to show its full wingspan. Sango obviously delights in the display and jostles the bird in her enthusiasm to pet it. And—a wild animal surely would draw back from the aggressively clumsy affection, right? Not hold still as fingers pluck at the slick cut of feathers in curious awe.

It can't be…

She sits on a bench by the threshold.

Her fists curl in her lap.

 

.

 

Sakura doesn't know how long she watches as her child absorbs herself in what must feel like the promise of a friendship that will surely make all the neighborhood kids jealous.

She's there long enough, however, for a familiar orange, yellow, and white shadow to slide down onto the bench next to her.

From the corner of her eye, Sakura sees Naruto set down a cup of tea next to her hip as a greeting. It's in a metal cup, the one he uses when he cheats thermodynamics by infusing chakra to heat the water quick. It's a trick most shinobi know how to do but have enough manners to not perform outside the field, even Naruto except when he's feeling especially lazy. The cup is too obscure a choice to be an accident, which tells Sakura two things. One, Naruto must have seen the scene when he came home from his meeting with the elders, and prepared the drink to ease the moment. Two, he knew enough to know the moment was one that had to be eased.

Sakura feels petty enough to ignore the measure of good faith.

Together, they watch in silence.

 

.

 

"It's only an echo," Naruto says, finally, as Sango apparently wins another round of the indecipherable dancing game she and the crow have started to play. She hollers, gloating.

Sakura's stomach churns with the thought of coming up with a response. A not insignificant part of Sakura wants to walk away, right then, and avoid the conversation.

This childish reaction is so unlike her, that it must is coming from whatever this _thing_ is. Like the camouflage of a moth against wood or the fantastic shuttering of the mind from a well placed genjutsu, obfuscation of attention must serve the little beast well.

Swallowing her discomfort, Sakura asks, "How does that even work?"

Naruto shrugs, drinks the now lukewarm tea himself. Sakura wonders if he feels the same itching pull to stop, just stop talking, don't, look away…  

"He drops by every few years, always in and out. Can't really get a good read on him, but got enough of one to guess it's not _really_ him, you know? It's like…" Naruto squeezes his face in thought. "The splinters in your hand after you punch a hole into a dummy. And it's the hole. And kind of also the feeling when you think about punching a real guy."

The comparison resonates with Sakura and the uncanny tension she feels looking at the so-called "echo," but it's still insufficient. Because the splinters are from the same tree as the dummy, and a hole is only a hole because of what's around it, and the feeling was still caused by an interaction with a real thing. No matter how Naruto twists the illogic of this haunting, the fact remains that an original always births the facsimiles.

Every body replacement technique needs a body to replace.

"But it's him."

"Yeah. Yeah," Naruto huffs. "In some way it's him. It's—"

Sango screams. She's won again.

 

.

 

Sakura wants to yell at Naruto for being complicit in this... game for so long, but she realizes she could have stopped Sango at any time and chose not to.

Instead, she thinks of how chakra scars the world after every battle, and how the strongest ninjutsu leaves the largest craters in their wakes. As a healer, Sakura knows war can splinter the sturdiest bone of the mightiest warrior, and now she sees what happens to the fragments left on the battlefield. Being utterly honest with herself, she would hope to always find compassion, patience, and care to the bits of her left behind.

Maybe the permission she quietly gives to the moment is, ultimately, a selfish one.

 

.

 

"As far as I know, the only time Sasuke's seen him," Naruto says apropos of nothing, "it was after the first time we, you know, sealed the deal. Totally killed the afterglow, and Sasuke wouldn't sleep with me again for _weeks_ because he was scared our dicks combined would summon him again."

Naruto means to get a rise out of her with his crudeness, but she cuts through the fat. "How did Sasuke react?"

"I told you. He—"

"Naruto."

He slumps down in his seat, put out that Sakura won't play along to his diversionary tactics. "Screaming. Lots of screaming. Sasuke told him to stay away from him and his. Birdbrain apparently took that pretty literally: came by to see me but never visited Sasuke again, and pretty sure he's loyal enough to not have visited Heiwa or Ichiru."

"Why not them?"

Naruto pauses long enough that Sakura glances at him. His hackles rise by the smallest of measurements, but Sakura notices it all the same. There's an angry scratch in his voice when he continues: "I saw him near the hospital, after you had Sango. Was coming back from dropping the kids at Kakashi's, and there he was, bobbing his head on a gate like he's calling me over to pick him up and bring him to your room. The nerve, y'know? Believe it that I woulda punched him if I wasn't worried he couldn't heal up so I'll have to have a busted-looking crow haunting me until I die.

"I tell him Sango's ain't just my kid; can't okay his coming by myself. He left, and I haven't seen him since."

Naruto kicks his feet out, looks skyward.

"I guess this is his way of asking for permission… but even with six years of prep, the fucker's _still_ ain't got it right."

 

.

 

It was Naruto's suggestion, made before anyone saw the crescent of black hair on their first child's head, the black hair again on the second's, or red on the third's.

Haruno Heiwa.

Haruno Ichiru.

Haruno Sango.

For years, they—a faceless, unnamed, ugly mass of whispers—used stare as they gossiped about what will happen if/when Sakura becomes pregnant—who the "true" father will be and what it will mean for Konoha.

And it was Naruto who kissed Sasuke then Sakura then her growing belly, and promised the name Haruno would stand as a blossoming field for the children's potential.

Each child was hers, born of her, so each will named as an honor to her strength.

But each would also be Sasuke's, and each would also be Naruto's, because they would fucking love their kids no matter what. And in the end, names don't even matter nothing because as much parental claim the three adults wish to extend, children always only truly belong to just themselves, and let's face it, things would be a lot more chill if their every introduction isn't a graveyard for the ghosts of families destroyed by the weight of their own bloated legacies.

How _utterly_ intrusive that Naruto's devotion to this truth and the hardwon ease he taught to his partners weren't enough to stop a meddling crow from exploiting a genetic loophole.  

"Stupid to be angry at a bird," Sakura pushes through her clenched teeth, and she can't tell if it's to herself or to her husband.

"Don't I know it."

 

.

 

A long moment, then—

Sakura shifts closer to Naruto, wraps her arm around his shoulders, pulls him flush against her side, kisses him behind the ear then along his jugular.

"They're ours," she swears against the threading pulse in his neck. Of all people, it is not Naruto who needs this reminder. She repeats herself anyway: "They're ours."

She touches the cup, pushes in her chakra, warms the tea.

"You're ours, too."

 

.

 

A longer moment, then—

"Neither of you told me." Her head rests on Naruto's shoulder.

His voice is incredulous against her hair. "You feel it too, don't you? The…"

Yes.

As frustrated as it makes her, she can't hold their silence against her boys. She doesn't think she could have said anything, either.

 

.

 

A short moment.

"We have to tell Sasuke."

"Yeah…"

"Naruto."

"Fine. Okay. Not it, though."

"…Shit. Fine."

 

.

 

Naruto holds up his cup in a toast, and waits until Sakura turns to fully look at him. Naruto crooks a smile gnarled by an grim undercurrent of tension. "Here's to hoping it's not fucking hereditary."

Her breath doesn't catch, but it's a near thing as Naruto chugs down the rest of the tea. The absence of their third, away on a mission, overwhelms her in an instant.

Despite knowing how serious a situation must be to warrant the support of the ANBU Captain, it's been years since Sakura's felt terror at the prospect of Sasuke not coming home. As the trio discovered very early on, the title Captain in a demilitarized world came with less on-the-ground action and more unholy amounts of administrative duty. Sasuke grew to appreciate the change of pace, learning to value his skill in balancing spreadsheets nearly as much as his bloodline talents. Once the little ones came along, his position meant a steady presence in the house whenever the hospital called Sakura in on an emergency or Naruto's meetings went over-long.

Despite the cushy job, Sasuke never lets his training lapse. Thanks to his readiness, he has always found his way back to her and her Naruto and the kids.

The once-forgotten terror at the thought of losing him flashes through Sakura now. Her eyes flash back to the crow.

She tries to tell herself if Sasuke died right now, right then, gut pierced violent and gory and sudden and traumatic, there wouldn't be a hawk preening on the branch outside Heiwa's room or—worse—a snake curled up in the underbrush where Ichiru and Sango play tag.

Doubt wades deep in her diaphragm because as Sakura knows as well as ever known anything, Uchihas have an unfortunate tendency of sticking around past their first (…second …third) expiration date.

Uchihas have a hard time letting go.

—No.

That's a half-truth.

 _Sasuke_ has a hard time letting go.

He once fixed on revenge, and that nearly carried them all into ruin.

Now, he fixes onto a home rebuilt. He fixes onto his own happiness even as it startles him. Because while Sakura is stubborn with her unmoving convictions, and Naruto's optimism leads him to trust more than he ought to, Sasuke grew up always grasping at whatever tendrils of life he could salvage. Even now in relative peace, his grip steadily holds all that he cherishes, close and fearful. She catches, sometimes, the spark of greed as he hoards the memories of every "love you too, dad" and every lazy fight with Naruto that ends with a kiss and every brush of Sakura's knuckles against his face as she arranges his hair out of his eyes.

He presses these moments into his heart, presses them into his skin, presses them until Sakura can't help but read the shock on his face as he realizes yes, yes this is his—no. This is real and utterly theirs, and he delights in it.

He won't lose them. He won't lose another family.

He won't.

 

.

 

But if they lost him, would he be able to walk away?

(The crow caws a laugh.)

 

.

 

"It's late."

Blue tinges the sky evening-ready, indigo sneaking through the soft curls in every orange cloud. On one horizon Sakura can make out the faint glitter of stars; on the other, the sun burns molten as it cradles Konoha goodnight. Between them, Sango lies on the ground, probably exhausted, and pokes at the crow settled on her belly.

"I didn't get groceries. I was—" Sakura gestures toward Sango. "Ichiarku?"

Naruto rubs his forehead but nods. "I'll fetch her." He stands up, leaving the tea cup on the bench, and stretches. Joints popping, he groans, "Man, the house goes to shit when the bastard's out of town.

"…No offense," he adds quickly. Sakura shrugs the comment off because Naruto isn't any better than her at playing house and they both know it. She still accepts his apologetic kiss. Accepts when he lingers over her, and the second kiss is longer, slower, less affectionate than the first but more tender. She presses her tension against his mouth, and she's grateful he receives it with patience and the shadow of his tongue along the crease of her lips as they separate.

"Let's hope Sango doesn't let slip how many times we had takeout, eh?"

Sakura laughs for what must be the first time all afternoon. "Sasuke's little tomato, keeping a secret from him? Would you seriously take that bet?"

"…We're screwed," Naruto says as he straightens up and walks off, not bothering to wait for Sakura's affirmative response.

Sango, seeing movement coming towards her, finally acknowledges the existence of her parents. Cradling the crow tight in her small hands, she tumbles onto her knees, jumps onto her feet, and runs to meet Naruto halfway. Juxtaposed with the crest of evening-blue sky and the approaching sunset-gold of her father, Sango's pink flares with her carefree motion.

She's so beautiful it makes Sakura's heart ache, even as she screeches, "Daddy look!" again and again and again until she crashes into her father.

The hush of the oncoming night surrounds Sakura, who's no longer privy to the unveiling scene as Naruto whispers his hello to their daughter in a kiss to her forehead. Sakura can only watch as Naruto holds out his arm, and the crow jumps onto the offered wrist without hesitation. Not at all suspicious of her father's familiarity with her new friend, Sango immediately scratches at the crow's back straight down the length of its spine.

As it stretches forward in response, Sakura does her best not to replace the image with that of Itachi pinning his brother to a crumbling wall, the veneer of family empty in the space between them.

She mostly succeeds.

 

.

 

"You didn't wanna say hello, mama?"

"Next time."

"Promise?"

"…Promise."

 

**Author's Note:**

> a special thank you to my precious wife and sounding board [calciseptine](http://calciseptine.tumblr.com/), who once again took a moment away from her two silly ice boys to edit fic for me. and ya catch me at my [personal tumblr](http://faorism.tumblr.com) or my (rarely updated but existent) [fanwork one](http://faorismwork.tumblr.com).
> 
> and yes, in this year of our lord 2017 i made naruto say "believe it" because the opportunity presented itself and how. could. i. not.


End file.
